Time heals everything...or does it?

My heart is so heavy today, but today is just one of many. I finally decided to share my thoughts and feelings because I know I am not the only one who suffers from losing a parent. There are many like me. Even though I know this, it doesn't make things hurt less.


My Father died December 13th, 2003, three days before my 28th birthday. He was diagnosed with non-hodgkin's lymphoma on February 13th, 2003. He died 10 months later. Since that day, I have never been the same and with everyday that passes, I realize that this is my reality. So does time heal everything? My answer is no. Time just allows you to learn how to cope and learn how to live differently. I am not crippled by my loss or by my broken heart, even though on my bad days, I do feel crippled and confused and incredibly sad. I wish more than anything my life was different. I wish I could call my Dad or better yet see him and just talk to him about my goals, my dreams and my fears. I wish he could give me advice and direction, just like he use to. Sometimes I feel like I am in a car driving some place I have never been with no directions. The only way I can describe how I feel is lost.


Sometimes days are easy and sometimes I get into this rut and feel so overwhelmed and I wonder when I will feel like I can really breathe again. Usually I know what ignites this feeling inside me, this time it was a dream I had when I was in Japan. I was there for two weeks with family travelling throughout the country. Japan is an important place for me, but long before I married and had a child with someone of Japanese heritage, it was a place that my Father had worked for awhile and held in such high regard. He had said that the one place he could have lived other than Canada and his native land of Italy was Japan. So for years I had always wondered what had impressed my Father so much about this country. So while I was in Japan night after night I had the same dream. One I wish I never woke up from,. At times I woke up feeling energized because I thought it was real, and then I was left with more sadness and more emptiness because I realized it wasn't. And here I am weeks later, still left with the after affects of the dream I had, still wishing it was not a dream at all.


The only thing about my dream that makes me laugh is because when I really think of the whole concept of the dream itself I think I either watch way too much Grey's Anatomy or House. Here it goes....


I finally visit my Father's grave, which I have not been to see yet, but it has been all turned over and the gravestone is gone. When I inquire with the Cemetery grounds keeper he directs me to the authorities and I find out that my Father is not dead at all. After trying to find out where he is, I am reconnected with my Dad. He wraps his arms around me and gives me the biggest hug. The hug is real. I remember the way I felt in the dream is a flashback to years of experiencing that exact same hug from when I hurt myself falling off a bike as a young child, or when I was hurt by a "stupid" boy.. it is the hug that makes me feel safe and loved. The same hug that I miss. I look at my Dad and he is smiling, and he has tears in his eyes. My Dad and I share many similar attributes, both good and bad, but one of the most beautiful things we share is our smiles. My Father and I begin catching up on the last six and a half years.....then I wake up.


I remember being it Tokyo the first night I was in Japan, having the dream, waking up and thinking, I need to call my Mom! I need to tell her that Dad is alive, that there has been a big mistake. And then reality sets in and I go through a roller coaster of emotions but am left with one, sadness.


What I would give for that dream to be real.


Per sempre con amore Papa. And in English: For always with love.


I miss you more today.....